Letters From Home
by DarkCloudRider
Summary: When Amber's reckless behavior starts to come back and bite her friends, she decides it's high time she had someone with her to watch her back out in the wastes. It was just after this idea had begun to settle with her that she first steps foot into the 9th Circle, and meets Charon. But will he be the steadfast companion she's looking for? Or just another hired gun?
1. The Lone Wanderer

Dusk was falling over the Capital Wasteland. The settlement of Megaton was already cast in the shadow of it's high metal walls. Strings of lights and neon signs flickered to life as the night crept in. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the patchwork walls of Moriarty's Saloon, casting a ruddy glow off of it's interior. The day had dragged on as usual, the same haggard faces drinking themselves to death for lack of anything better to do. Gob idly wiped down the bar, listening to the radio crackling happily in it's corner.

With a breath of desert air and a wisp of dust, Amber entered the bar. Gob brightened as soon as he laid eyes on her, the worried tension draining from his posture. She flashed him a dazzling smile, her teeth appearing stark white against her dust smeared face. He could tell that she hadn't bothered to go home. As the door rattled closed behind her, he could see the thick film of dust that coated her from helmet to boot. She crossed the meager distance to the bar and sat across from him, dropping her pack unceremoniously in the process. The patchwork satchel clattered to the floor, heavy and bulking with scavenged goods.

"Welcome back." He rasped kindly, picking up a glass to polish. Amber pushed her goggles up onto her forehead, her bright green eyes fixing onto his. She murmured her thanks and ordered a drink, as he was turned away she slid a folded sheet of paper onto the scarred surface of the bar.

"Did I miss anything interesting?" She asked casually, thanking him for the shot. He shrugged, a quirky, familiar movement. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugged at her lips. For a moment he looked confused, she flicked a suggestive glance towards the bar. Following her cue, he caught sight of the paper.

"what's this?" he asked carefully, picking it up. Amber took a moment to throw back the shot before answering.

"It's from Carol." she answered, after a sharp hiss of breath through her teeth. With a quick glance at Moriarty's door, he let out a rough chuckle and slipped the letter into a pants pocket. Amber had done as he asked, and mentioned Gob to Carol when she finally stumbled upon Underworld. He managed a lopsided smile in thanks, though Amber could see the unvoiced gratitude burning in his eyes. She waved it off, it had been a small favor.

"Don't mention it, I can get a letter back to her if you'd like." she answered his silent thanks. After a moment of welcome silence, Amber ordered another drink. As he refilled her glass, Gob noticed a sliver of gauze peeking out from under her right sleeve. A worried look crossed his face as he passed the glass back to her. Amber took a startled look to her injured arm and gave a weak smile.

"You're hurt… why didn't you go see Doc Church first?" he asked after a moment. She half shrugged, obviously her right shoulder was in pain. Her attempt to dissuade him failed and he pressed her for more. Amber had seen that look a thousand times, _tell me more._ she sighed heavily and ran a hand through her rosewood hair. Suddenly she looked tired, something she usually tried to hide.

"I ran into a gang of those Talon Company fucks, one of 'em stabbed me in the shoulder. I plan on seeing Mr. Sunshine later, believe me… I just wanted to get that letter to you as soon as I could. I figured it'd be a nice surprise…" she finished with a crooked smile. Amber knew that Gob couldn't be angry with her, that was alright, she was angry enough with herself for the both of them. It was the constant worrying that bothered her, made her seethe with self-loathing every time she was reckless.

"how- how bad is it?" he asked quietly. She jerked her head to the left, a sign she hadn't heard him. Gob swallowed, concerned for one of his only friends. He asked her again, raising his voice to accommodate.

"Not horrible, hurt's like a bitch but I'll manage. I've had worse." she replied quietly. Gob nodded stiffly and resumed wiping the bar, anything to ease the worried tension. Amber tried not to notice the vicious way Gob was scrubbing at the decrepit counter. Looking around, she noticed that the sunlight had faded. She tossed back the half forgotten shot and sighed again.

"Gob-" she placed her hand over his to stop his relentless cleaning, "-it's really not that bad. My dad was a doctor remember? I left that vault with more than a little knowledge in first aid, and I can handle this small stuff." she didn't go into details, she knew he didn't want to hear. Amber still glowed at the fact that he hadn't flinched at her touch. That was something she appreciated more than any thanks he could give. After a moment he relaxed and nodded throwing in a half mumbled 'yeah' for good measure.

"Speaking of, heard anything about him yet?" Gob asked, desperately trying to change the subject. Though grateful, Amber couldn't suppress the pained look that crossed her face. After a moment it was replaced with a slightly sad smile.

"Nothing recently, my leads ran cold a few weeks back… I've just been so _busy_, you know?" she trailed off, there really was no need to explain herself. Gob simply nodded, he knew how hard she was taking it. He couldn't quite understand why she'd chosen him, why she talked to him about her well hidden sorrows. Still, he was fond of the young waster, she helped him forget about Moriarty for a while.

Amber stayed for a long while. They spoke, but not much. After a time, a welcome silence settled over them. Gob went about his normal duties to the bar, while Amber sat and quietly hummed along with the radio. She couldn't quite count how many nights had tapered down like this. The bar was her only refuge, Gob her only "friend", and Amber couldn't think of a better way to forget about the things she'd seen. Slowly, the other patrons of the bar slipped into the night, until only Amber was left.

The silence was broken when Moriarty stalked out of his office. Gob visibly tensed and Amber swore under her breath. It was no secret that she disliked the proprietor of the saloon. He came to a swaggering halt behind gob, glaring coldly at Amber. She returned his gaze with disdain, then looked defiantly at Gob. He flashed a nervous half-smile and continued polishing the mug in his hand. Amber knew that Gob was in for it as soon as she left. Moriarty cleared his throat loudly, Gob half turned to glance at his boss. Ignoring the ghoul, he meandered around the ancient counter to loom over Amber.

"'s getting' a wee bit late don'cha tink? I'd say 's bout time ye was headdin' home lass." his thick accent couldn't hide the thinly veiled loathing Amber knew he felt. Slowly, she turned to face him, leaning her elbows languidly on the bar behind her. A smug look twisted her young face into something even the most hardened raiders had come to fear. She swung one leg wide, crossing the other, clipping his chest with the heel of her boot. His false smile only twitched at the corners from the insolent contact.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed." she remarked casually, staring him down. They remained locked in a battle of wills for a long moment. With her unusual perception, Amber could see the rage boiling just below the surface. Without breaking the gaze, she picked up the forgotten drink and tossed it back. Her smirk turned into a grimace, no longer playing his game. She knew her little show would cost Gob dearly once she left, but Amber had to keep up appearances. Placing the glass back on the bar, she turned away. A quick, apologetic glance at Gob and then she picked up her pack.

Standing, she spun to face Moriarty, a look of triumph tinged his smug expression. Throwing one strap over her shoulder, Amber barely flinched under the weight of the pack on her injured arm. With a last, burning glare at Moriarty Amber strode out of the bar. The metal door rattled shut behind her and she was gone. For a moment, Gob looked at the door. Once he was sure Amber was out of earshot, Moriarty leapt on the ghoul.

"You! Come'ere you." he reached across the counter and fisted Gob's threadbare shirt. The bartender didn't put up a fight, merely let his owner drag him forward. "You make sure this place is spotless before you lock up. Then we can chat bout your current debt. And don'cha be thinking that 'lil lass'll be savin' your worthless hide." He spat. Gob nodded stiffly in reply. For good measure, Moriarty yanked on his shirt, roughly slamming the ghoul into the bar. Gob's head came down hard on the rusted metal surface. The blow briefly knocked him out, causing his knees to buckle.

He pushed himself up off the floor, avoiding Moriarty's glare. He mumbled a submissive 'yes sir' and waited for Moriarty to leave. With a satisfied chuckle, Moriarty swaggered back into his office. Once sure he was gone, Gob pulled himself up. He gingerly laid a ragged hand on his head, already feeling the knot forming under the remaining skin. He was glad Amber hadn't backed down, if he appeared as a weakness to her, Moriarty would exploit it without a second thought. Making sure his footing was good, Gob began to lock up the bar.

* * *

The deafening slam echoed in Amber's ears as she leaned heavily against the wall of the saloon. She knew Gob understood, knew he was a weakness that she had to hide. Still, the horrible sound caused her knees to go weak. After a moment she unhitched herself from the wall and staggered away into the night. With all of her "daring-do" out in the wastes, Amber sometimes forgot how bad things were at home. Still, if she did anything about it, and she sorely wanted to, it wouldn't be home for much longer.

The large, pale moon provided ample light as she traversed a corroded bridge. The silent sentinel of the wastes, glowing above as it had been for eternity. Earth's constant companion, always watchful in the dark of night. Amber idly wished she had someone like that, someone to watch her back in what was left of the world. Following the rusted walkway sunken into the crater wall, Amber glanced out over the town. A few shadowed figures made their way home, but for the most part Megaton was sleeping.

Amber's house loomed over her, a welcome sight after so long on the road. She opened the salvaged door and trudged inside. The breath of slightly less sweltering air was pleasant as she dropped her pack in one corner. Too tired to cook, Amber pulled a mirelurk cake and a bottle of Nuka-Cola out of her bag. Food in hand, she flopped unceremoniously into the nearest chair. She ate quickly, it had been hours since her last meal. the telltale hum of Wadsworth's propulsion jets came from somewhere upstairs.

As if on cue, the Mister Handy unit came drifting down the ramshackle stairs. He swiveled his optical sensors in her direction, she retorted with a crooked smile. Taking it as a hello, the robot went about his duties, leaving her in peace. After a moment to enjoy sitting down, Amber staggered to her feet and grabbed her pack from the floor. An awful din erupted from the living room as she emptied the contents of the bag. Food, meds, ammo and other miscellaneous items skittered across the carpet. She deftly sorted the heap of junk into several smaller piles. Amber made a quick inventory of her ammo and meds, setting aside empty magazines to be reloaded.

Stuffing the scavved goods back into the bag, Amber gathered up her weapons, ammo and meds and retreated to her room. She opened the bottom drawer of the desk and dropped the meds inside. Turning on the table lamp, Amber set her 10mm on the work surface. With nimble fingers, she swiftly field stripped the firearm, taking it apart enough to clean the mechanisms and oil everything lightly. With a patch of steel wool she scrubbed away any rust or corrosion building up outside.

Clean, Amber checked the condition of the parts. Finding a few on the verge of death, she rummaged around in the middle drawer to find replacements. Using the tools scattered across the desk, she replaced the damaged parts. That done, she reassembled the gun and checked the action, dry firing it once or twice. Satisfied, she set the cleaned gun to her left and began working on her assault rifle. In routine succession, Amber cleaned and repaired her main weapons. She would need to stop by Moira's to see if she could scrounge up more shotgun parts, but that could wait until tomorrow.

Next, she opened a drawer of the filing cabinet and grabbed a few bags of loose ammo. Setting the various clips and magazines aside, Amber checked the condition of the ammo and counted out a combat load. With practiced efficiency, she reloaded the magazines and a few spares. She returned the ammo to it's drawer and sighed. For a moment she took stock of her finished work, guns cleaned, repaired and reloaded. She ran a grimy hand through her dust clogged hair with a sigh.

Finished with her guns, Amber trudged downstairs, into the small bathroom she'd added to the house. After a quick look in the cracked mirror, Amber was taken aback by how haggard she looked. With a frown she stripped herself of the combat armor and took a shower. The hot water helped relax her aching muscles, she took extra time to thoroughly wash her hair. Stopping the water, Amber took a moment to wring out her waist length hair. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a threadbare towel from the hook on the opposite wall. Wrapping it around herself, she adjourned to her room to change.

Clean, dry and changed, Amber sat on her rusted bed, the ancient springs squealing in protest. As she settled into the slowly growing pile of teddy bears, Wadsworth hovered just outside the doorway.

"Come in Wadsworth." She said wearily. After a moment he drifted into the room.

"Madame, I couldn't help but observe that you have been in a rather dour mood as of late. May I be so bold as to inquire upon the cause?" he asked in that maddeningly proper English accent. She nodded slightly and formed her answer.

"I was up at Moriarty's earlier, delivering a letter to Gob from his mom. Then Moriarty showed up, total joy kill, and tossed me out. Gob got it bad tonight, I can feel it in my gut… I can't be the only waster in this godforsaken place that gives a damn… can I?" she had meant the question rhetorically, but she could almost hear the whine of silicon synapses firing up. After a moment he made his reply.

"Statistically no, Madame, you cannot be the only one who 'gives a damn'. I fear however; that ones such as yourself -in this case persons who view Ghouls as equals- are few and far between in the wasteland. Still, mustn't give up hope, else I fear your mood will considerably deteriorate." He answered at length. Amber merely stared. It had probably been the most appropriate, well thought-out answer he had ever given her. Hell if it didn't make her feel batter too. Shaking her head weakly, Amber let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Thank you Wadsworth, I feel… better." She replied wearily. Taking it as the end of the conversation, Wadsworth bobbed slightly and excused himself. As he floated away, Amber was still slightly shocked at his sudden display of insight. She turned off the lights and crawled into bed. It took her a long while to fall asleep. The silence of the house allowed her mind to play back the sounds of gunfire and screams. Eventually she drifted off into a black and dreamless sleep.

* * *

'_The high pitched beeping was her only warning of the landmine. She dived away, landing her shoulder heavily into her partner's side. He let out a shocked, rasping cry as they toppled behind a pile of rubble. The beeping should have gotten faster, warning of the mine's imminent explosion, yet it remained at a steady pulse. Disoriented, Amber looked to the man she had tackled._

"_What are you doing?!" he shouted, his withered voice sounded strangely familiar. She studied his face for a moment, but the wicked play of shadows from a nearby fire made him impossible to recognize. A rough hand shoved her off, the forearm attached was missing tissue and some of the muscles were exposed. She sat up and held her head with one gloved hand, her wrist felt oddly light. The beeping of the mine still echoed off of the tunnel walls, why hadn't it gone off yet? _

"_the mine…" She replied dazedly. A dry chuckle came from the shadowed figure before her. She looked at him again but still couldn't make out who he was. The shadows moved and encased her, the beeping was replaced with the sound of crickets. The fire and shadowed figure remained. Amber looked about her, dizzy from the change. Around them the wasteland stretched for eternity. The moon, bright and full, was bigger than she'd ever seen before. The multitude of stars seemed to be forming kaleidoscopic patterns against the inky night sky. _

_Amber gazed into the fire for a moment, the last echoes of his laugh fading into the vast night. The flames seemed to move like liquid, slow and flowing. Creating patterns of colors that no true fire had. She paid close attention to a winding streak of deep burgundy for a long moment. _

"_what mine? Are you alright Amber?" He said, a twinge of worry edging his rough voice. Amber squeezed her eyes closed but the play of firelight danced through her eyelids. 'What is going on…' she thought idly, trying to pull reality back together. Opening her eyes again, only the man and the fire remained, every thing else was blackness. _

"_Amber? What's wrong?" the worry was almost tangible in his voice, he leaned closer. Even though she could make out his body, his face was still obscured by phantom shadows. Still clinging to his features, though they had no source. The beeping returned, louder than before. The fire dimmed and the figure began to fade. Panic gripped her, she reached out a gloved hand towards him._

"_Who are you?" she managed to choke out before the beeping became unbearable. Before he could answer, the figure faded completely. Leaving Amber alone in the void with the deafening beeps. Looking up the stars still waltzed to an inaudible tune, forming patterns that both captivated and frightened her.'_

Amber woke with a start, bolting upright, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. The beeping of her Pip-boy was deafening in the silent house. Roughly untangling the thin blanket from her legs, Amber shakily got to her feet and turned off the alarm. A dream? She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a dream. Three Dog's morning rant drifted through the house from the old jukebox. She set her Pip-boy down and sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. Shaking off the last remnants of the dream, Amber laid out on the cold metal floor. Tucking her feet under the edge of the desk, she began doing sit-ups.

After ten minutes or so, Amber stopped. She would have done push-ups next, but her arm was not well enough to handle the strain. An old routine, she had been doing these exercises for years. Getting up, she bounded downstairs into the cramped bathroom. After a good nights rest, the girl in the mirror looked young and refreshed. She quickly brushed the tangles out of her hair and bound it in a loose bun. She had planned for a few days in town, a few days to rest and re-supply. A few days to plan her next trip into the wastes.

As she headed back to her room she passed by Wadsworth on the stairs. He greeted her cheerfully and she returned it with a smile. Grabbing a Nuka-Cola from the "pristine" machine on the landing, she found herself gazing at the open door of the spare room. Amber really had no use for it. Returning to the present, she opened the frosty drink and strode into her room.

The sunlight streaming through the patchwork walls of her house was warm on her skin. Setting her drink on the desk, Amber took a moment to herself to stretch. There were satisfying _pops_ from her ankles and lower back as she arched languidly towards the ceiling. As she finished with a satisfied sigh, she began humming along with the radio. Turning back towards the desk, Amber grabbed her Pip-boy and clasped it around her wrist. The familiar weight was welcome as she took a seat. Flipping over the day planner she'd bought from Moira, Amber ran her gaze over the map.

She'd been meticulously copying the map on her Pip-boy to paper for some time now. Never a braggart, Amber had been told she was quite the artist. She pulled up the map screen on her small computer and began to copy it to paper. On her last trip she'd discovered several new locations, Amber transcribed them as closely as she could. The plans for her next trek into the wastes ran through her mind. First to Rivet city to re-supply and say hello to Flack and Shrapnel. Then to underworld to deliver Gob's reply, then home.

Amber twisted the stud in her right ear idly, a short trip, two weeks at most. She briefly tried to think of anything else she needed to do. Coming up with nothing, she traced the mental routes to her destinations. Picking out the safest camps and a few places to scav along the way. She grabbed a slip of paper and a pencil from one of the drawers, writing down her plan. Two weeks, she'd tell Gob three, just in case. Still, she wasn't due to leave for a couple of days, so she could enjoy some downtime at home. Amber pushed herself away from the desk, taking the last swig from her Nuka-Cola, now only slightly cool.

She changed into a worn, patchwork hoodie and cargo pants. Tucking the pant legs into her boots, she clipped her knife onto her gun belt and slipped her 10mm into it's holster. After meandering downstairs, she threw the empty bottle into an open crate in the small kitchen. She mentally went over her checklist for today: Gob, Moira, and a little visit with Stockholm. Happy with her errands, Amber left her house.

* * *

Outside, the morning sun was bright and warm. Thankful for the break in the heat wave, Amber started off towards Moriarty's. the multitude of footsteps of Megaton's settlers clattered over the rusted walkways. Cromwell's careening rants could be heard everywhere, bouncing off the metal walls and reaching out to the people of the small town. Amber was glad that he and his ilk could still worship the bomb, even after she'd disabled it. She descended the steps haphazardly sunken into the earthed ramp to her house.

The Plaza was lively that morning, well, as lively as megaton ever got anyway. She waved to Jenny Stahl as she climbed the ramp to Craterside Supply. Making sure to tread lightly over Doc Church's roof. Billy Creel was just coming out as she approached the battered storefront. Amber stopped for only a moment to make pleasantries, then continued towards the bar. She knew them all, Billy, Jenny, Moira. She'd even had a few strange conversations with Confessor Cromwell when nothing else could console her. Still, she wasn't really friends with any of them, she didn't really _know_ any of them.

Amber knew Gob, and Simms and she liked them well enough, but she didn't really know _anyone_. Coming up on the covered walkway to the bar, Amber ran into Simms. The Sheriff was her kind of person, he knew what had to be done and he also knew what was right. He gave her a firm handshake as greeting and she returned it.

"Off to the bar Amber?" He remarked casually.

"Yeah, I'm in town for a few days so I thought I'd hang out with Gob for a while." she replied idly. A scowl crossed his face briefly, probably ill thoughts about the proprietor of the Saloon. Amber knew the feeling but said nothing.

"It's right saintly the way you treat that poor boy, God knows he needs it." he said after a moment. She found it odd that everyone referred to Gob as "boy" Amber had a sneaking suspicion that he was older than every megaton settler combined. She shrugged it off. They chatted about nothing in particular for a few minutes and Simms made to take his leave.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Moira was looking for you the other day, something about the guide? She asked that I mention it when you got back to town." he said, not without a hint of apprehension. Amber stifled a chuckle at his reluctance of the town eccentric. Saying her goodbyes, Amber walked into the Bar.

Moriarty was berating Gob in full swing. Even from her position at the door, Amber could tell he was three-sheets-to-the-wind. How she hadn't heard the din from outside baffled her for a moment. She stood quietly by the door, fighting the urge for the knife on her belt. Amber hadn't really been paying attention to the "conversation" until a flash of white caught her eye. Moriarty had Carol's letter clenched in his fist, all at once a fierce anger boiled up inside of her. Neither of them had noticed her yet, Moriarty had his back to the door and Gob was carefully staring at his shaking hands. Amber cleared her throat loudly, stopping Moriarty mid rant.

"G'mornin lass. Ye might want to be commin' back a bit later. As ye can see, I'm a li'l busy with certain _employees_-" he spat the word "-and I'd hate t' drag ye into it." he finished with a vicious grin. Amber folded her arms over her chest, gripping her sleeves tightly to fend off the need for her knife, or the want for the gun on her hip. Her face blank, she stared him down. Her icy glare finally made his smug grin falter.

"_That_-" she began, pointing to the sheet in his fist "-Belongs. To. Gob." each word was soaked in venom. He took a startled look at the paper he had been clutching tightly, and laughed roughly.

"_This_? This is an inventory sheet, nutin' more." he replied silkily. No dice. Amber knew it was the letter, she had heard more than a few words of Moriarty's ranting. She told him so and he paled.

"Is there a problem? If you have some issue with me delivering letters between Gob and his mother than you should take it up with me. Surely you can't begrudge a man for missing his family? I'm sure even _you_ miss you family sometimes." the last sentence had been a lie, Amber had mulled the thought that, knowing Moriarty, he'd probably sold his mother for a bottle of scotch. But the effect was the same, the threat she posed was _just_ enough to make him back down. Still Amber felt like she was pushing her luck.

"O'course not lass, 's only that he was read'n it on the job 's all. And I try to run a respectable establishment, which is difficult if your employees sit 'round all goddamned day read'n le'ers from home." he whined, not a pleasant sound coming from him. However, it was enough to make him leave poor Gob alone while she was there. After all, repeat business was the key to his industry. Thrusting the crumpled sheet into Gob's hands, Moriarty strode defiantly into his office. Gob gave an appreciative look to Amber as he took up his usual spot behind the bar.

"…Thanks Amber." he rasped quietly. As she sat at the bar, Amber couldn't help but notice the nasty looking shiner that Moriarty had left him with. She gently squeezed his hand as he began wiping down the countertop. Gob froze for a moment at her touch, but didn't flinch. He managed to giver he a broken smile as she ordered a drink. As Gob poured the shot, Amber stared blankly at a spot just over his right shoulder. With a nod of thanks, she tossed back the whisky, enjoying the warmth spreading down her throat and stomach. With an exasperated sigh, she placed the glass gingerly on the bar.

"Are you ok?" she asked at last, toying with the empty glass. He glanced back at her as he stowed the caps in the register. Gob's gaze faltered at the pained look she gave him, he wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, she wouldn't believe him. After a moment he nodded and picked up a mug to clean. The silence was thick with regret, Amber had an almost tangible tenseness about her. Gob could feel the self loathing radiating off of her, he had to say _something_.

"I've had worse…" he said at last "this'll be gone in a few days… it doesn't hurt much anyway…" he finished cautiously. The words were familiar, she glared at him askance he shrugged it off. Amber knew he was lying, it was written on his face, and in the way his shoulders tensed up, as if she might hit him. Looking to change the mood, Amber groped for another subject.

"Gob-" she began idly "-are you a pre-war Ghoul? Like Carol?" it wasn't much, but it was _something_. The change in subject made him ease up, Amber could see the tension leave his ridged posture. He let out a ragged sigh and ran a hand through his patchy hair.

"Yeah… I'd been back from Anchorage for about a year when the bombs hit." the name struck a chord. Suddenly, Amber saw the bartender in a new light.

"Anchorage? You were in the Army?" her sudden interest brightened him up a little, but she could sense apprehension at the subject. Still, her display of childlike curiosity forced a dry laugh from the Ghoul. He shook his head wryly as he picked up another glass.

"No- well, _technically_…" he answered vaguely. Amber quirked her head at his reply.

"How can you _technically_ be in the Army?" she asked with a twinge of sarcasm. He tried to suppress a smile.

"I was in the Navy, up until Uncle Sam decided to grab every serviceman sitting on his duff and transfer them to the front line. Before I got swapped, I was up in a P-3 looking for Chinese subs." he replied plainly. Amber said nothing, stealing a glance at her, Gob was surprised to find that he had her rapt attention. Leaning her elbows on her bar, she gaped at him, wide eyed. A keen interest burned her stare into him. "What? Why so interested?" he asked, ever so slightly defensive. Amber looked away quickly, with -and he found it hard to believe- a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks.

"I…um, I'm a- I'm a bit of a military history buff." she admitted meekly. "I've read everything I can get my hands on about the pre-war military. It's just that… I never thought I'd get to talk to someone with firsthand experience." she added quickly. Gob laughed nervously, but not unkindly. She let out a breathy chuckle, still looking away.

"Well, at the time we were running out of men. The draft dodgers had fled to Mexico -since we'd annexed Canada by then- and the war was winding down. Still, the Reds kept coming, even though China was running out of resources and money. So one day, the crew and I get back from a twelve hour flight and find this guy coming up with letters for us. Telling us that we're in the Army now, new orders, new stations. I got sent to Lakehurst for power armor training." he paused then, hoping that would be enough. Amber sat and listened intently. Her piercing stare sort of gave him the creeps, yet it felt oddly satisfying to have someone listen to him.

"Anyway, after training, I went up to Alaska and spent three years up there. Let me tell you, it's fucking _cold_ up there!" his attempt to end the conversation seemed to work, Amber stared pensively at her empty shot glass for a moment.

"I'd never peg you for a soldier." she said after a moment. He shrugged, putting down the mug he'd been cleaning for nearly twenty minutes.

"it… changes you, combat. When you've killed that many people… you've got nothing left to prove. People take it differently, buddy of mine shot himself. Than again, poor bastard had a rough week. Mom died of the plague, little brother killed in the riots, wife died in childbirth -the baby too- and he just didn't have time to process it, what with the Reds breathing down our necks. I can't really say I blamed him, but the Army had figured I'd had enough. They sent me home after that." he answered, caught up in the memory. Amber nodded sullenly, she knew what combat could do to a person.

'But… what made you come down to D.C.?" Amber asked as he refilled her empty glass. Again he shrugged, a quick movement. Gob rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of a good answer.

"Couldn't tell you really, I guess I thought that _someone_ higher up must've survived. Guess the soldier in me was looking for orders… besides it's better than Jersey." his sudden attempt at humor caught her off guard, she laughed despite herself. Again, he flashed her a crooked smile. The radio interrupted their reverie, as Three Dog loosed a crackling howl and started a new report on Amber. He talked about Arefu and Meresti and, thankfully, failed to mention Vance. Gob flashed her _that look_, the look that said: tell me more.

"well…" She began.

* * *

After a few days in town Amber prepared to leave. She'd gone to see Doc Church, who'd grudgingly patched her up. She'd let her arm heal for a day or two, in the meantime she was able to get more shotgun parts from Moira. Another assignment for the guide was lined up, but it would have to wait until her next trip. Her shoulder was feeling better, but hadn't had time to fully heal. Still, Amber had to leave, the cramped town was smothering her. She went through her mental checklist, head tilted in thought. Removing her hands from her hips, she went to work.

Amber collapsed her sniper rifle, strapping it to the side of her pack. The combat shotgun was strapped to the other side. Laid out across her bed were the rest of her supplies. Opening a side pouch, Amber recounted her ammo and stowed it carefully inside. In another pocket, she placed a number of Stimpaks, a few rolls of gauze and some extra Rad-away. While tossing a few bottles of water into the main pack, Amber slipped a box of bobby pins into a pouch on her belt. The main bag was barely filled with three days rations, spare parts for her guns and a set of tools for repair. She tucked in a roll of duct tape for good measure. Before she forgot, Amber jammed a roll of toilet paper on top of everything. Even tough-as-nails-kill-everyone-and-let-God-sort-em-out wasters need to heed the call of nature every once in a while.

After checking and rechecking her supplies, Amber secured the pack with a satisfied nod of her head. It was more than enough to see her safely to Rivet City, where she could easily re-supply before heading to Underworld. On that note, she reached into another pocket on her belt, checking to see that Gob's letter was safely stored away. With another self satisfied nod, Amber clipped her assault rifle to the tactical sling she'd made. Letting the sling take the weight of the gun, it hung in front of her, ready to be grabbed while still leaving her hands free. Making one last mental check, Amber shouldered her pack and pulled her goggles down over her eyes.

As she trotted downstairs the grey pre-dawn light cast an eerie glow off the metal walls. She gave wadsworth his usual instructions: keep it clean and kill anything that comes in, unless I've told you otherwise before. Absolutely sure that everything was accounted for, Amber set off. Closing the door quietly behind her, she made her way to the gate. Not a soul was out that early, except for Stockholm, who gave her a slight wave from his perch on the gate. She nodded in reply and opened the heavy barricade just enough to slip out. It rattled closed behind her and she set off, into the Wastes.

* * *


	2. Special Delivery

After a long day of walking, Amber caught sight of a ruined house. The skeletal remains provided scant protection, but any cover was better than none at all. She cautiously entered the dilapidated structure, looking for anything that might try to kill her. The house was empty, with a contented smile she set her pack down at the bottom of a small crater. It was almost like a natural fox hole, large enough for her and possibly a fire. One side was backed by one of the few remaining walls, bone white in the afternoon sun. She nimbly jumped into the hole, crouching, she was pleased to find it deep enough to hide her from view.

Standing, she looked at her surroundings, trying to find some brush to start a fire. A little distance from her camp she found a long dead tree, it's black and twisted limbs reaching for the cerulean sky. Bracing one foot against the charred trunk, she gripped one of the lower limbs. With a grunt of pain, she wrenched the branch away, the brittle wood splintering from her pull. Amber hefted the limb onto her good shoulder, adjusting her stance under it's weight. On her way back to the house, she bent down to snap up some of the dead brown grass that grew in clumps all over the wastes. Supplies in hand, Amber set to work making a fire.

---

Night settled over the wastes like a dazzling blanket of stars. Unlike a blanket however; night in the wastes was bitter cold and unforgiving. Amber wasn't bothered by the cold, gifted as she was with excellent circulation, her hands were actually warm and clammy. She wiped them on her pants to dry the sweat and resumed tending the now glowing embers. The play of light cast wicked shadows across the ghostly walls, bringing back haunting memories of other nights in other places, places where Amber dared not stop to sleep. Taking the pack from her breast pocket, Amber lit up a cigarette. A terrible habit she knew, but safer than alcohol, at least she could keep her wits about her when she smoked.

From where she sat on the hard packed earth, Amber pulled her pack closer to her. Opening it, she rummaged around in it's contents. She pulled out a Mirelurk cake and a bottle of Nuka-Cola. These were staples of her new diet, easy to find or make, and they kept well enough to carry. She unwrapped the paper covering the cake and placed it on an almost flat rock on top of the coals. While her dinner heated up, she opened the bottle of soda and stashed the cap in a pouch on her belt. Amber took a quick pull on the drink as she began to clean her guns. Not nearly as thorough as she was at home, she still managed to clean them enough to keep them in working order.

Putting the weapons back into their right places on her pack, Amber rolled her shoulder experimentally. There was a twinge of pain around her clavicle, and a residual soreness across her shoulder blade, but it would be alright. As usual, she really should have stayed in town a few days longer. Still, her arm would heal well enough on it's own, she just needed to take a little extra care.

Scooping up the Mirelurk cake she pulled it apart. Chewing pensively on the irradiated seafood, Amber took a mental look at her progress. She was about halfway to Rivet City, she should be there by late afternoon the next day. So long as everything went according to plan, Amber would make it to Underworld in two days. After scaving, and a little time set aside for unexpected events, she would be back in Megaton sometime late next week. Taking another absentminded swig of her soda, Amber idly wondered if the raiders had reoccupied the metro since her last trip to Underworld.

Finished with her meal, Amber turned down the volume of her Pip-boy. Reaching over to her pack, she un-strapped her sniper rifle and assembled it. Positioning herself on the earth bank around her camp, she gave the area one last sweep. Finding not so much as a Radroach, Amber collapsed the gun and stowed it away. After kicking some dirt on the last remaining embers of the fire, Amber unrolled her thin blanket. There was a subtle _click_ as she turned off her Pip-boy and fell asleep.

---

Giving her equipment one last check, she scaled an exposed section of framework and perched on the ruined roof with her sniper rifle. Focusing her eye on the scope, she scanned the area. The wind rushed past her, whipping her unbound burgundy hair into a frenzy. Everything looked clear, there were no signs of hostiles along the horizon in any direction. She knew her position was dangerous, but she also knew that no one carried anything with the range to hit her.

Still, being up there reminded her of how careless she'd become. She still felt a dull throb of pain in her leg from that bear trap. Still had the scars from bullet wounds she'd hastily treated, still had hearing loss in her left ear from that grenade. She forced those memories down and continued her scan. There was nothing, finally satisfied, she climbed down and grabbed her gear. Making sure the camp was clear, Amber headed south-east.

The trek to Rivet City wasn't exactly hard now, but it was long, and dangerous. As she came up over the rise she saw the D.C. Ruins spread out below her. The view was stunning and she took a moment to herself to enjoy it. After spending so many years in a vault, she was always taken aback by the surreal beauty of the wastes. The morning sun was bright as she descended the hill towards the ruined capital.

Trying to stay off the remaining roads, she instead made a beeline to Rivet City. She'd have to swim a good bit of the way when she got to the river, to avoid the Super mutants. She really didn't want to deal with them, she'd had one too many close calls recently. Thinking ahead she checked her carried supply of Rad-X and RadAway. She had enough to last her the trip, she'd planned on the swim. There was a soft click as the turned on the radio of her Pip-boy, Three Dog should have had a new story to tell by then.

"Greetings boys and Girls, it's me Three Dog! And now it's time for some news. There's a little settlement up north by the name of Canterbury Commons. Well get this, it seems that the one and only lone wanderer from vault one-oh-one has done it again. That's right children, she saved the town from a couple of costumed whack jobs called the Mechanist and the AntAgonizer. I know, I know, believe me, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried! And now on to some music!" he crackled excitedly over the airwaves. His story was followed by "way back home".

She couldn't help but smile at his excited ranting about her. Not because of him though, but because she knew in her heart that Gob was listening to the radio at that exact moment. She'd have to tell him all about it when she got home no doubt. She just hoped that she was fighting enough of the good fight for the both of them. Then again, there were plenty of wasters who clung to her stories like the last shred of humanity left in this colossal shit of a world. It had never been her intention to become some sort of savior to these poor bastards, things had just worked themselves out that way. Still, it was too late to do anything about it now, Amber had found herself famous one day. And that was that.

Crouching next to the rocky bank of the river, Amber popped a Rad-X and slid into the irradiated currant. She pushed her pack in front of her, she'd worked hard to make it waterproof. It was a little hard to swim in her armor, but if the Mutants spotted her she'd need it, and fast. As she got closer to the opposite shore she saw a Centaur patrolling the bank.

She backed up and continued swimming around the Jefferson monument. It was strange to see it with all of the catwalks and pipes, she was pretty sure those hadn't originally been there. The shallows had been hard enough, but in deeper water Amber was having real difficulty staying afloat. She heard a Super mutant shout in the distance and doubled her effort. Her legs were burning as she swam, she could feel a cramp coming on. A shot whizzed over her head and she dived, the water burned her eyes but she continued onward. Weighed down by her pack and armor, Amber found it difficult to swim.

Bullets streaked through the water, stopped just short of her head. She needed air, and was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Surfacing for only a moment, she took a ragged breath, but it was long enough. A bullet grazed her arm and the water quickly turned red. She dived again and swam for shore with long sweeping kicks. Surfacing again for air, Amber saw that the mutants had left her for dead, she sighed and continued swimming for shore.

A rocky outcrop of land separated Rivet city from the rest of the river, she scrabbled up the incline and collapsed. Gasping for breath, She looked towards the monument. The mutants were blissfully unaware of her, Amber was thankful but she could feel a good talking to coming on. Flack and Shrapnel would be _pissed_, she didn't even want to think about how Gob would take it.

Taking a RadAway from her pack she downed the contents of the bag. Her hands were covered in blood and shaking , her left arm burned. She looked at the wound, not too bad, but worse than she'd hoped. Taking a roll of bandages out of her bag she injected the limb with a Stimpak. It took only a moment to bandage the cut, but she cursed herself anyway. Feeling the Stimpak take effect, she flexed her left hand experimentally. She'd need to see a doctor, Amber knew a lot about first aid, more than most wasters anyway; but there was only so much she could do by herself.

It had been a stupid idea to swim around the mutants. She could have handled them on land, if she'd gone to Underworld first she could have avoided them entirely. She'd been reckless, it had been a _stupid_ idea. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she grabbed her pack and headed off. Rivet City was to her right, she stayed off of the road until she got to the tower. Scaling the stairs took a lot out of her, one RadAway hadn't been enough, she felt tired. Amber numbly felt blood sliding down her arm from the wound. The firefight had caused them to close the bridge, not surprising but still aggravating.

"it's Amber, extend the bridge please." she said flatly into the intercom, she had to force the fatigue and annoyance out of her voice. Harkness waved and the bridge swung over the gap. She crossed quickly and greeted him with a curt nod. He gave her the once over and noticed the already blood soaked gauze wrapped around her upper arm. That reluctant concern crossed his features for a moment, she sighed.

"that was _you_?" he asked harshly indicating the direction she'd just come from. She nodded hastily, too tired to talk. Her breath came in heavy gasps, she was soaked and bleeding badly. Her hair and armor were coated with mud and the dust clung to her more than usual. The haphazardly bandaged wound hadn't been cleaned, he could see how cloudy the blood looked as it mixed with the dirt inside the gash. Harkness gave her one last look and then gestured to another one of the guards.

"Take her to the clinic. _now_." he hissed and took a step back. She nodded gratefully and followed the guard into the stairwell.

---

It would take a few days for the wound to heal, her arm was heavily bandaged and in a sling. That meant she was going to be late getting home. She didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to think about _him_. Gary's Galley didn't feel like home, but she sat at the bar anyway. She ordered another shot of whisky, Gary glanced at her for a moment as he passed the glass her way. She sighed and downed the shot.

"Don't look at me like that Gary, I know it was reckless." she sighed exasperatedly. There was a twinge of concern in his features, but not enough to trouble her. Something on the stove behind him started to boil, he took a moment to tend to it.

"It was an honest mistake Amber, anyone could have made it." he replied passing the bowl of noodles to Flak, who'd sat next to her. She shook her head vehemently, they wouldn't understand. Flak leaned over and laid a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"Look kid, at least you aren't dead right?" he offered casually, his tone was tinted with concern as well. She knew he didn't mean it, he was probably more worried about her than anyone else. Still, she gave him a slight smile and took his words with stubborn grace. She wasn't sure how it had happened, but wound up thinking of Flack and his partner Shrapnel like older brothers. They always looked out for her, always had advice and words of wisdom to share.

"Yeah, but I still feel awful about it. I know how you and Shrapnel worry about me… Oh, and I'm sorry I haven't been to visit in a while…" she said quietly, paying her tab she made to get up. Flack followed suit and gave her a playful punch on her 'good' arm. She smiled and let out a dry chuckle, little could drag her out of her self loathing. Flack was determined, he gave her a long look.

"look… I get it, if you're so worried about your safety why not hire a body guard?" he said bluntly. The idea had never occurred to her, because it usually meant a trip to see Eulogy Jones. She began to shake her head but he interrupted her.

"it doesn't need to be a slave, there are plenty of mercs around who'd do it." he answered her unvoiced reply. She had a brief, painful memory of the Talon Company who'd been chasing her down since she'd crawled out of the vault. They were showing up less frequently than before, but they still showed up eventually. He knew that look in her eye, He'd seen it before. Amber gestured with her head and they left Gary's Galley, heading for his shop.

She collapsed onto the old couch, like so many times before. It was time for a Powwow, these happened occasionally when she needed someone to talk to and was too far from home to see Gob. He sat in the rickety chair across from her and Shrapnel joined her on the couch. He looked her over and an expression of deep concern crossed his face, probably because of her arm. She tried to shrug, but with both of her shoulders injured, it hurt too much to move.

"What's on your mind kid?" Shrapnel asked, lighting up a cigarette. She pulled out her own and joined him. She still remembered their first Powwow. She'd just blown in to Rivet City after a raid in D.C. and had plenty of stuff to sell. She'd been reckless that day and was pretty beaten up. Shrapnel had been the first to notice that it was more emotional than physical. He and Flak had sat her down and gave her a good talking to about being fucking _responsible_ for herself. It was the first time anyone had shown that they actually worried about her, other than Gob that is.

"I was stupid today. I tried to swim around the Super mutants across the river and wound up getting shot. I try to be careful… I know you guys worry about me. Now with this-" she lifted her heavily bandaged arm. "- I'll be late getting back to Megaton. …he hates it when I'm late. And I still need to get to Underworld before I can go back." she said, nothing was secret in a Powwow. She'd told them about Gob, about their strange friendship, they'd done what she assumed older brothers do, they worried.

"I suggested that she try and find a body guard." Flak said, bringing Shrapnel up to speed. He nodded thoughtfully for a moment. If they _were_ her brothers, Shrapnel would be the oldest, he just seemed… wise. Amber would have never guessed they would have that type of relationship. Flack was nice enough, for Flack anyway, but Shrapnel had been downright _surly_. Still, he knew what was what and had told her so.

"That's a good Idea, but there's not many people out there you can trust, you know? Ain't nothing worse than trusting someone who'll stab you in the back first chance they get." He said after another moment. She nodded slightly, true enough, she needed someone she could trust, the dream and it's implications began to creep out from the back of her mind.

"I can handle myself, you know that. But sometimes I _do _wish there was someone with me to watch my back." she said in that barely over loud way she'd adopted since the grenade. They made sure she was looking at them when they talked, nothing was secret from a Powwow. It hadn't taken her long to learn how to read lips, and she could still hear perfectly in her right ear. Still, they tried their best to accommodate for her disability. She hated that word, she could still snipe a feral from fifty yards with just a 10mm.

And they knew that.

"I think it's a good idea, but you gotta _know_ what your getting yourself into." Flack said carefully. She nodded slightly, they were right, they were always right. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray and looked inside for a moment. This was a pretty steep truth she was dealing with.

'_Could I really ask someone to join me? Could I really ask someone to be responsible for my life?' _She thought for a moment. Shrapnel picked it up, he always picked up her moods. He put a friendly hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice a little, serious business.

"if you _do_ get a body guard, remember: you are as responsible for their safety as they are for yours. You gotta trust each other with your _lives_. That's a big deal out there, that's _the_ deal out there." He said with such conviction that she could never argue. She knew he was right, that's why she revealed so much to them. They were people like her, made some mistakes sure, but they knew what was _right_.

"I'll think on it on my way to Underworld. If anything turns up I'll let you know." She said with a finality that ended the Powwow. Satisfied that the message had been received they relaxed. She stayed for a while, until the market closed at least. Conversation with them was easy, they liked to listen to her. They talked about nothing in particular, and she regaled them with the story of Canterbury Commons. When it was time to file out of the market they parted ways, She would have to stay for a few days until her arm healed. Still, She'd given herself an extra week, but the way things were going she had a nagging feeling that she would be late.

---

The decrepit tunnel walls were comforting. Amber stalked along the walkway with an effortless grace she only seemed to have underground. The pale glow of her Pip-boy danced over the rubble and derailed metro cars. She settled into a crouch as she came upon a fork in the tunnel. Checking her map she followed the path towards The Mall. At this rate, she'd be in Underworld well before nightfall.

She continued along slowly, making her footsteps at quiet as possible and turning off her light whenever she heard a noise. Checking her map again Amber sighed, utility tunnels. Great. Looking carefully around the corner, she broke into a quiet run for the door. Those tunnels would take her close to Museum Station. Once inside the metal corridor she crouched and pressed herself into the wall. The harsh overhead lights blinded her for a moment as she turned off the light on her Pip-boy.

There were surprisingly little hostiles in the tunnels, mostly ferals and mole rats. Taking a moment to reload her 10mm, she glanced around the corner. Raiders. There were three of them that she could see. They looked relatively green, only one of them seemed to be keeping watch. She crouched and took aim at the watchman, from this angle she could see that he was the only one with a gun. A quick squeeze of the trigger and she fired a round into his forehead. He slumped over the sandbag barricade, the other two took arms and glanced around.

She holstered her pistol and stealthily grabbed her Assault Rifle, hanging by her waist thanks to the tactical harness. Amber could hear the raiders creeping closer to her position, she was ready. The first raider poked his head around the corner and she fired, it struck him between the eyes and he toppled. She flew around the corner and fired a barrage into the remaining raider, she crumpled after a moment.

Amber heard footsteps coming towards her fast from a hallway to her right. She pressed herself into the wall alongside the opening and reloaded her rifle. The footsteps slowed as they drew closer, he'd probably seen the other's bodies. Halfway down the hallway the footsteps stopped, she held her breath. Amber had been in worse situations, but the bone chilling fear she felt just before the rush of the fight always got to her. Slowly, she counted to three.

In a flash she was standing and around the corner. Several rounds of fire erupted from the muzzle of her rifle and embedded itself in the unsuspecting raider. His face contorted into a silent scream as he died. She quietly stepped over the body, taking a brief look at his ruined chest. Pure adrenaline pounded through her veins as she broke into a stealthy run. A doorway branched off to the left, she ducked by the wall and reloaded. She could hear at least four people inside the small room. There were footsteps, a chough, and a laugh, and the telltale sound of someone taking Jet. The dank corridor was only illuminated by the flickering light of a fire from the adjacent room. She could see shadows, twisted and bizarre, cast on the opposite wall.

This could be easy, she realized in a flash. Quietly she reached into her pack and removed her silenced 10mm. Checking the magazine, she prepared to move. The footsteps from the room stopped suddenly and she could hear weapons being drawn. Her muscles tensed and she froze, pressing herself into the wall. She mentally cursed herself and tried to blend into the shadows.

"what was that?" she heard a male voice say quietly. His macabre shadow danced on the wall across from her. The corroded metal gave it a hellish texture, something she would see in her nightmares that night no doubt. He took one clumsy step forward, he'd been drinking.

"you're hearing things again, you're drunk." said a smartass female voice from further in the room. Amber could see his shadow swivel and face the unseen speaker. He laughed loudly and she watched his shadow stumble away. Every nerve in her body was alert, her veins throbbed with adrenalin. She fought to control her breathing, fought to keep herself still. Taking a chance, Amber peered around the corner. She was right, four.

Planning her shots, she went through the scenario in her head, it took only a moment. After crouching for what seemed like an eternity, her muscles screamed into action as she rushed around the corner. Her movements were a blur, four shots were fired, four raiders were dead. She wasn't sure in which order they had died, she didn't care. Looking behind her she looted the bodies and the room around her. She left the armor, only taking weapons and ammo. Scanning the room she grabbed the stash of chems, she would be able to sell them somewhere in Underworld.

After backtracking to strip the other raiders, she ran the rest of the way to underworld. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the confined metal corridor, her heart was pounding fast. She stopped at a doorway and checked her map, this was it. Opening the door she was brought back into the dingy underground. The tracks were half buried in rubble and she could see fires in the distance. She padded along the tunnel and crouched where the opening met the boarding platform.

A quick scan with her sniper rifle showed no signs of life. The ramshackle barricades were abandoned and seemed ghostly in the flickering light of the fires. Makeshift walkways had been laid along the top of a defunct train, there should have been a sentry there at least. Yet there was not a living soul on the mezzanine or on the train. Amber let out a sigh and strapped the rifle to her pack. Still cautious, she ran, half crouched, towards the ancient stairs to the mezzanine. She emerged from the underground right outside the Museum of History. The afternoon sunlight temporarily blinded her.

---

As usual, she strode into Underworld with a friendly smile and kind word for every resident. She'd gone into the outer bathrooms in the Museum and changed out of her bloodstained armor, into her hoodie, pants and boots. She greeted Winthrop with a firm handshake and twenty pieces of scrap. When no one was looking she used one of her newly acquired bags of RadAway. Dr. Barrows was happy to fix her up better than she could manage herself. Then she sold whatever gear she'd scrounged off the raiders to Tulip.

Finally she entered Carol's place and greeted the woman herself warmly. Taking the letter out of it's pocket, she gave it to Carol and stayed for some idle chat. Greta joined them briefly before going out for her nightly smoke. Thinking back to her last conversation with Gob, Amber turned to Carol for answers.

"When did Gob show up in Underworld?" she asked lightly gripping a bottle of Nuka-Cola. Carol smiled whimsically while thinking of the answer.

"oh probably thirty years ago… why do you ask?" Her motherly nature eased Amber more than any amount of booze.

"No reason, I was talking to him about… you know… _before_. He told me he'd been in the Navy." the smile of motherly pride that adorned Carol's face was enough to say that she knew. Amber stayed for a little while longer, chatting about nothing in particular. Still, she had business to finish, so she said her goodbyes and left.

Amber had never used chems, but she'd pick them up to sell them in town for a big boost of caps. After talking to Snowflake, she found out that Ahzrukhal in the 9th Circle was the man to see about chems. The decrepit bar was on the mezzanine overlooking the rest of Underworld, she'd really never been inside. Amber did most of her business at Carol's so she really never felt the need. Upon entering she instantly knew why she preferred Carol's. One corner of the establishment was taken up by the bar, one by a particularly grim looking ghoul. Every other corner was filled with the various patrons and junkies who frequented the bar.

The light was dim, with all of the junkies lying around she guessed it was purposely dimmed. Her demeanor shifted into Paradise Falls, tough as nails with a hint of "don't fuck with me". The solitary Ghoul in the corner fixed his cold gaze on her, she tried to stare him down. Amber didn't like to be watched, the longer anyone stared at her, the sooner they could see under her front.

There was something about his stare, he was _trying_ to see through her. He was trying to get beneath her mask and see what she was all about. Amber had never come across another reader before, someone like her. She had no trouble reading others emotions, but she'd never tried to read a reader. A smirk broke across his face, he knew. How much he knew she wasn't sure, but he knew enough to make her uncomfortable. She turned away from him and sat down at the bar. Ahzrukhal leaned on the damaged counter and gave her the once over.

"I've never seen you here before. Welcome to the Ninth Circle, what can I get for you?" he said casually. Amber ordered a shot of whisky to open up the dialogue. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, it almost made her _like_ Moriarty. He was sleazy to say the least, and there was a well hidden hunger in his look. Amber had caught it though, enough to suddenly feel sick. She lowered her voice enough so that only he could hear.

"Snowflake said you were the one to see about chems." she answered quietly. He grinned wickedly, no doubt thinking she was a junkie too.

"Here to buy?" he asked in that sickeningly casual tone. She laughed, it was hoarse and raspy from smoking.

"Not hardly, I'm here to sell. With all these junkies around I'm sure you won't say no to a little more in the way of… inventory." she said with a knowing smile. He nodded slightly and she sold him the chems she'd picked up. He gave her barely what they were worth in caps. She didn't particularly care though, this was just some caps on the side. Still, she could feel that one Ghoul staring at her. A chill ran up her spine and she shifted in her seat.

"what's up with that guy in the corner?" She asked softly, Ahzrukhal perked up slightly.

"Charon? He's a… loyal employee." he replied carefully. The subtle hint of apprehension in his voice told her that there was more to the story, but he didn't seem the type to pry. She nodded thoughtfully for a moment, and against her better judgment, pressed him for more.

"what exactly do you mean 'loyal employee"?" She asked casually. He glanced at her sharply.

"let's just say that he was raised by a… peculiar group of individuals. You could say that they… brainwashed him, in a sense. Charon is blindly loyal to whomever holds his contract, which at the moment happens to be me. As his employer he will do whatever I say, whenever I say. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends. Don't mess with me, and he won't mess with you." he explained in the overly accentuated way of someone talking to a child, or someone of lesser intelligence.

Amber fought the urge to draw her weapon. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd had to shoot someone for mouthing off to her. Her hand had made it's way to just over her waist when she stopped herself. She could feel the steely glare of Charon fix on her hand, she really didn't want to know what it felt like through the sights of his shotgun. Relaxing her hand she beat down her anger enough to get it out of her voice. Returning her attention to Ahzrukhal, she noticed that he seemed scared. Good. Maybe now he wouldn't take that tone with her again.

"Where might someone find a… loyal employee, like Charon?" she asked, subtly throwing an offer into the question. He picked it up immediately and a smile spread across his face.

"Ah, not anywhere around here I'm afraid. This group lived further up north, you'd have to make a pretty lengthy trek to get there, and then there'd be the price. To procure one of their… contracts costs a hefty sum of caps." he said lacing it with his return offer. Amber nodded again and thought about it.

"How much would you say?" she asked laying the deal out for him.

"Oh for an employee of Charon's caliber… I'd say about two thousand caps." he replied languidly. That was a hefty sum indeed, more than she had on her at the moment anyway. She nodded slightly thinking of a few places she could scav for the caps. Ahzrukhal noticed her hesitation and raised his voice just enough to bruise her pride.

"Too rich for your blood eh? Well I suppose a clever girl like you could find the caps somewhere." He said in an openly mocking tone. Amber stiffened and threw the paltry sum for the drink onto the bar. With one last calculating glance at Charon she walked out of the 9th circle and left underworld shortly after.

Two thousand caps was a lot. Sure, if she didn't buy anything for repairs or any ammo she could have it in a day, but to stay alive, and to get some better equipment for Charon, she'd need at least twice that. She'd need to get him completely reequipped in order for him to be of any use to her. She'd also need to get the spare room ready in Megaton, but these were things she needed to do regardless of whether she bought _his _contract or not. Really, taking on a bodyguard was a lot more complicated than Amber had originally thought. And vastly more expensive. She pondered the logistics of the venture as she headed out of the museum, back to Megaton.

---

In his darkened corner, Charon shifted uneasily against the wall. She was talented, he'd have to give her that. It had taken him quite a while to see through her, yet had only taken moments to decide that a smirk was the best way to unnerve her. It had worked too, his well placed half smile was enough to make her turn away. Just in the nick of time too, he could tell she was getting close to seeing through _him_. just as well that she didn't know about him, Charon had a hunch that she wouldn't be able to handle it. Not to say that he couldn't feel _anything_, but the feelings he did possess were none to pretty. Charon hadn't come across anyone who could see through him in a long, _long_ time.

Ahzrukhal seemed pretty shaken up after watching the smoothskin reach for her gun. With his keen hearing, he hadn't missed a word of their "subtle" conversation. The girl was looking to buy his contract, while Charon knew that his current employer was -for some reason- trying to rid himself of it, he knew that Ahzrukhal wouldn't let it go cheap. The next few weeks would prove to be interesting, of that he was sure. Whether or not she actually came back that is. She could always come across some other form of protection while out in the wastes. Charon resigned himself to wait and see how things played out. Again he shifted against the wall, the spot worn down to the brickwork from years of his shifting.


End file.
